


A Little Better to Travel

by hesterbyrde



Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Going for a Drive, Kissing, Light Angst, Mild Language, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve Rogers's Motorcycle, and natasha cannot with that, steve is having a sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: There was no pattern to the days Steve would choose to leave, save that the weather was always beautiful. And there was no triggering event that Natasha could tell. Just… some days were good days on the training floor, and some days they had difficulty getting maneuvers to sync up. On some days there was strawberry cake in the caf and everyone would fight over it, and some days they'd all order out for Thai, just to have something different. Some nights Steve would invite Natasha to his room, but most nights he didn't. And one night she pulled him into hers, just to switch it up.And some days, when the weather was nice, Steve went riding.And by some heroic strength, Natasha never asked to where or why.





	A Little Better to Travel

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Monday everyone!
> 
> Apologies for my absence. Life in tech theatre devours you whole sometimes, but I've popped out the other side with two new fics for this series! So you can expect an update next Monday too!
> 
> This is the first non-explicit fic in this series. The rating is for language and kissy-kissy. And this spawned from a conversation I had with @iaintnosidekick about how Steve should totally take Natasha for a motorcycle ride once Endgame is over. Since we don't know if that will happen, I opted to do it now and flesh out some things leading up to Civil War and to my fic "Threshold of Night."
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for beta reading this on such short notice.
> 
> And thank you all for reading and commenting and leaving kudos! I'm so thrilled that the interest in this series has continued to grow. I hope you all enjoy what I've got coming next.
> 
> Cheers! See you next week.

***

“Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive.” ― Robert M. Pirsig, _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values_

***

After the battle for Sokovia, the months skimmed by like rocks skipping over the surface of a still lake. Summer displayed her golden glory for what seemed an almost unending succession of sundrenched days, before she gradually began to bow her head for the year. A little more gold than green. More cool breezes and fewer butterflies. Shorter days under bright blue skies and longer nights with a veil-less vault of stars overhead. And it seemed, for a few weeks at least, that the descent into fall would be a slow and stately affair. 

But all it took was a brisk wind, and a frosty cold snap that rimed the grass and fogged the breath, and suddenly it was autumn almost overnight at the Avengers Compound. 

For Natasha, the slightly less clement weather didn't change much about her daily routine. Most of her training regimen was indoors anyway, and when she wasn't in the gym, she was in R&D making a nuisance of herself to the lab techs and tinkering with the new gear they were designing. Mostly, she was just keeping busy, which in turn kept her mind off Bruce's continued absence. The vacuum he left behind still ached, but as the days turned to weeks and those into months, it was becoming less of a personal pain, and more of a shared one. He was missed by everyone, not just her. And that was a comfort. 

But other than that, it was routine. Training. Shared meals. More training. Time for companionship and shenanigans. Sleep for long enough to be back at it again the next morning. Day in and day out, just as Natasha had predicted.

However, Natasha did notice one change as the days grew shorter...

Steve was away from the facility more and more often. He didn't tell anyone where or when. He would just be gone on occasion. Natasha was fairly sure he wasn't off searching for Bucky because Sam was still around at the compound. And there was no way he'd be running missions by himself. But there were days when Steve would just pick up and go off… somewhere. Somewhere away. Just for the day. Sometimes not more than a few hours. He was always back before dark, and usually in time for dinner. And if he missed afternoon drills, he'd go running on his own before bed. He never mentioned where he was going or why, and the rest of the Avengers either didn't notice or just flat didn't ask.

Natasha tried to ignore it the first few times. If he wasn't sharing, she didn't want to pry just as he never seemed willing to pry into her affairs. But as it kept happening more and more frequently, she felt herself growing more curious. And on the heels of that curiosity came concern. One day, she followed him down to the hangar, hoping to at least find out what vehicle he was taking. It turned out he was dragging out his old motorcycle. The one from WWII that Tony had gotten refurbished for him. Steve was dragging out his refurbished WWII era motorcycle and going for a ride by himself. Almost weekly, by that point.

She shouldn't have gone looking, she realized, because now she wanted to know where he was going. And she had no forthright way to find out short of just asking him. There was no pattern to the days he'd choose to leave, save that the weather was always beautiful. And there was no triggering event that she could tell. Just… some days were good days on the training floor, and some days they had difficulty getting maneuvers to sync up. On some days there was strawberry cake in the caf and everyone would fight over it, and some days they'd all order out for Thai, just to have something different. Some nights Steve would invite Natasha to his room, but most nights he didn't. And one night she pulled him into hers, just to switch it up.

And some days, when the weather was nice, Steve went riding. 

And by some heroic strength, Natasha never asked to where or why.

***

"Don't pull your punches, Wanda." Natasha instructed, shaking out her hands before putting the practice mitts up again. "If I don't catch them it's my own fault, not yours. Again!"

Wanda's face scrunched with concentration as she resumed her fighting stance. Again she swung with her right fist, harder this time aiming straight for the mitt. Again. Again. And again. Then with the left. One. Two. Three. Four. 

"Atta girl!" Natasha said, a smile bleeding across her face. "Now, show me your footwork!" She started circling her pupil. 

Wanda kept her bright eyes focused on the mitts as she began to pivot in place. Again she struck. Four and four. A little less steadily this time with her feet working under her, but her fists still connected solidly.

"That's it. Keep your core low. You're creeping up."

Another set of four blows with each hand, and Wanda fought to keep herself folded into a defensive crouch. 

"The lower and smaller you keep yourself, the more likely your opponent is to underestimate your reach." Natasha told her. "You make them come to you, and then you make them regret it."

Four and four again, more steadily this time. More force behind each punch. More intent.

Natasha straightened, looking quite satisfied. "There you go. You're getting it." she said, dropping her mitts by the edge of the ring and heading for the cooler.

"Staying that low feels awkward." Wanda said, a little out of breath as she shook out her shoulders.

"It's less awkward than winding up on your ass, trust me." Natasha replied, passing her a water bottle. "You'll get used to it."

Wanda smiled as she took the bottle, but her gaze had slipped over Natasha's shoulder towards the door. Natasha turned to see Steve, dressed in civilian clothes, standing in the doorway. He looked strange. Very serious. But not "mission" serious. Something else was prowling around behind his blue eyes, gathering and roiling like storm clouds.

"Hey Natasha. Hey Wanda." He said with a rather worn but genuine smile.

"Hey Steve." They both answered.

"Didn't mean to interrupt-" he started.

"You didn't." Natasha cut him off. "We were finishing up for the morning anyway."

"Yeah, I'm starving… think I'm going to head up to the caf." Wanda said before taking a long pull off her water bottle. "You guys had lunch yet?"

"Yeah." Natasha and Steve answered together.

"But thank you." Steve added.

"Alright. I'll catch you guys later then." She said, grabbing her bag and seeing herself out.

The mask of pleasant indifference melted from Natasha's face once Wanda was through the door.

"What is it, Steve?" She asked, taking a step closer. "You… get any news? On…?"

He just shook his head, hands on his hips as he contemplated the tops of his boots.

Motorcycle boots, Natasha belatedly realized.

"Actually, I just wanted to see if you felt like going for a ride." he said.

"A ride?" Natasha's stomach flipped at the suggestion.

"Yeah, just… get out of here for a bit? It's a nice day."

"Sure." Natasha said with an eager quickness that she didn't bother to hide. "Can I sprint through the shower real quick, and put on some actual clothes?"

"Of course. I'm not in a rush. Gotta go pull my bike out anyway. I'll meet you down in the hangar."

"Okay."

Natasha didn't ask questions. Not when he'd asked and not when she arrived in the hangar. In a strange way, she treated the whole affair like a mission. Prep involved a shower and clothes suitable for a motorcycle ride. That meant boots and jeans. A purple turtleneck and her leather jacket. The one with the compartment where she could stash a handgun. Then she just needed to meet Steve in the hangar to continue the mission. It was all need to know, and she didn't need to know where they were going to take a ride with her friend. 

And Steve didn't offer any details when she arrived. He just gave her a helmet, and pulled himself astride his motorcycle before securing his own.

"Have I ever taken you out on this thing?" he asked over his shoulder.

"This is the one Tony refurbished for you, right?" She asked, skimming one finger along the rear fender.

"Yeah."

"No, I don't think you have." she replied, sliding onto the seat behind him.

Steve nodded, to himself mostly, before kicking back the kickstand. "Ready?"

By way of answer, Natasha slipped her hands around his waist, settling against him as the engine purred to life beneath them. 

And then they were off.

***

Natasha spent a long time watching for road signs and mentally cataloging mile markers, trying without success to surmise where she was being taken. They were heading north, so that meant they weren't going back towards the city. And they weren't headed towards the town nearest compound. That was immediately due west. She had no idea where they could be going traveling in this direction. North was just… more mountains as far as she knew.

This must've been how Steve felt when she'd taken him out to that congressman's cabin, she thought. But he hadn't asked questions then, and she wasn't asking questions now. She was just along for the ride. Literally in this case.

Eventually, after over an hour of driving up and down winding mountain roads, she deduced that, in fact, they quite possibly weren't going anywhere. Whenever it seemed like they might be getting close to what passed for a major city in rural New York State, Steve would take a side road that would have them back threading through the mountains again in no time.

And the mountains were gorgeous, for the record. All aflame with their fall colors. A carpet of mottled reds and golds and flecks of stubborn green that rolled out around them in all directions. And finally Natasha realized that perhaps _this_ was where she was being taken. To this raucously quiet and serene place atop a purring engine. Fiery colors zipping by on all sides, save for overhead where a dome of crystal blue arched from horizon to horizon. Beauty was everywhere she looked.

It was peaceful. Nothing to think about but how exquisitely and pointlessly beautiful it all was. Nothing to listen to but the road. Nothing to see that required calculation. It reminded Natasha of when she was a girl, and she would sneak out of her window and onto the roof of the Red Room. It was always on a clear night in the dead of winter. When she couldn't sleep, she'd count the stars and count the snowflakes. It had been so quiet then. It wasn't quiet now, but somehow the fuzzy static of the engine's roar made her mind quiet. 

Maybe… maybe this was "where they were going."

And with that thought, Natasha just relaxed. Relaxed against the broad plane of Steve's back, resting her helmeted head between his shoulder blades and heaving the deepest sigh. And for a brief second, he released one of the handlebars and grabbed her hand in his, covering it and twining their fingers together. He squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but Natasha did sincerely wonder if a joint or two might pop. 

Affection blossomed in her chest at that. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to just crawl inside Steve's jacket and wrap her arms around him. To cradle his face and just ask "What is wrong?" just in case it was something she could put to right. But it probably wasn't, and she could do none of those things right now anyway. Not while they were hurtling over and around the beautiful autumn-burnt mountains. And in a way she didn't want to stop either. She could stay like this forever. Watching the world go by, and holding on to her friend. Nothing to think about… Nothing to worry about...

But just when it seemed like they weren't going to stop, Steve slowed, pulling off the road and onto a gravel-paved overlook. They had arrived at what appeared to be a stone-walled observation spot looking out on a particularly breathtaking expanse of mountains. There was nothing else. No buildings or signs. Nothing but a historical marker and an oblique suggestion of some parking spaces off to one side. 

The sudden quiet as Steve killed the engine fizzed in Natasha's brain as she looked out over the landscape. It was nearing sunset now, and the sun had gone from dazzling white to burnished gold, catching on every vibrant leaf as if they were tiny jewels. They both pulled off their helmets, hooking them on the handlebars, and Steve traipsed over to the half-wall of the overlook. Natasha followed a few steps behind, taking this one chance to look at him rather than the scenery. To watch and see what she could see before she tried to talk to him.

That hunch in his shoulders was still there, as was the hollow look in his eyes. He hadn't said a word the whole drive, and while he wasn't particularly chatty on a normal day, that still worried her. Something was eating at him, and she had no way of knowing what.

She didn't want to get pushy right away, so she wandered to the historical marker first, letting Steve take in the scenery for a moment. The weathered plaque marked the land they were standing on as "The Slide Mountain Wilderness," home of the highest peak in the Catskills. There was more, but she didn't read it. She was shamelessly watching Steve out of the corner of her eye. He was standing tall, gazing out over the sun-dyed landscape. But all his bones seemed to sink together… a sort of resigned collapse, even though he still bore a soldier's rigid and dutiful posture.

And he was looking at the horizon the same way she was looking at the historical marker. Eyes blind to what was outward, but clearly staring inward. The sight made her ache in the worst way.

Fuck it. She was done waiting.

"Steve?" She bent his name into a question as she turned to face him.

"Yeah, Nat?"

"Why did you bring me out here?" she asked as gently as she could manage. Half of her brain had been screaming to just ask already and the other half was counseling patience. But she was out of patience. Not when Steve looked so tired and just…

Fucking sad, really. He looked sad. And worried. 

Steve was quiet for a long stretch as he visibly turned the question over in his mind. So long that Natasha thought the silence might stretch into a complete lack of answer altogether, but at length he spoke. "I just thought it would be good to get away for a bit." he said, dropping his gaze to his dusty boots.

"I get that." she replied, daring a step closer. "I've noticed you've been making a habit of that for a few weeks now. But why bring me this time?"

He was silent again, chewing on his lower lip. But then he turned that tired, piercing gaze on her. "I know it's been worrying you. And I wanted you to know that… that you're not one of the things I want to get away from." he said finally.

Natasha blinked twice. It was always twice when something took her by surprise. "What are you getting away from, then?"

He was a long time in answering yet again. Almost so long that Natasha considered giving up and withdrawing the question in favor of finding something less thorny to talk about. "It was hard living in Brooklyn again sometimes." he said leaning his fists on the stone wall. "The city's changed, sure, but it's one of those places that never really changes. And that was both good and bad. I'd see the things I miss everywhere. Things that reminded me of life before the war. Reminded me of Bucky… Sometimes I'd want to go walk those streets, y'know? Go wallow in it. But that's… that's when I'd go take a ride up the river. Just get away for a bit. It helped… a little at least."

Natasha bit down on the question she really wanted to ask. It kept coming up over and over because he hadn't answered it. _Why bring me?_ But the answer was buried in there somewhere. She'd gotten him talking. Now she just had to wait.

"It's worse now… the longer it goes. Even though I'm not in the city anymore. Knowing that Bucky's alive somewhere. Knowing…" he sighed heavily, the air punching out of his lungs. "I keep seeing him everywhere. Doesn't matter that I'm not living in Brooklyn. He's just… everywhere in my head. I keep wondering if he's following me, and not… not knowing if I should be worried or not? But… but not really caring if I should be. I couldn't bring myself to fight him even if he came for me with that knife. I couldn't..." He dropped his head as his voice trailed off to a near whisper. "I just want to see him again." The words were almost lost to a passing car, but Natasha heard them. She heard them plain as day.

And that was it. That was Natasha's limit. She closed the distance and slipped an arm around his waist, feeling his weight shift gratefully against her. 

"What I wanted to get away from was the doubt." Steve said finally, his cheek leaned against the part of her hair. "That's why I brought you."

Natasha hazarded a peek up at him and found herself drowning in the sincerity she found in his eyes. What did he mean by that? He was getting away from the doubt so he brought her… 

Steve's face melted a little at the open, wondering look in her eyes. The clockwork of her mind spinning madly behind the stillness of her face.

"What are you doubting, Steve?" She asked.

"Everything. Mostly myself." he replied. And then he looked down at her with that piercing, hooded stare. "Everything but you. I just keep thinking… what am I going to do when I find him? If I find him?"

"You'll find him." Natasha said, the words coming out with a conviction she didn't know she had until that moment. " Or he'll find you. Because you can bet he knows you've been looking for him."

"You think?" Steve asked, hope overflowing in his eyes where tears had threatened a moment earlier.

"If I were in his shoes, and you can bet he's at least as trained as I am... and you were searching for me the way you have, I would definitely know." She threaded her arm under his jacket to scratch between his shoulder blades. "And I would be grateful."

"You would?"

"Mmhmm." she said, leaning on him a little. "I can't speak for Bucky. Not really. I know enough, but not everything about how he was… made." She sucked on the word as if it were a shard of bone. "And there's no way to know how much he remembers. But I know about myself, and how I was made. And I know that… when you've lived the life I have. And you've done the things I've done, willingly or not, the idea that someone would put forth that kind of effort to find me? Just to find me? It would matter. And it would at least make me curious."

"Really?"

"He pulled you out of the Potomac for a reason, Steve." Natasha went on. "One he may not even understand yet, but that should give you hope. And you should hold on to that."

"But what am I going to do when I find him?"

Natasha shrugged a little. "Maybe the situation will answer that question for you."

He nodded, mostly to himself. "You don't think I'm crazy for still looking?"

She shook her head, squeezing him tighter around the middle. "I just wish you had a little more to go on. I wish I could give you more to go on. I want you to find him, Steve. I want you to find him before someone else does. I… Bucky's sort of where I was, in a way. Before Clint made his call to not take his shot. I… sincerely hope it's not as near a thing for him as it was for me."

It was Steve's turn to squeeze her tight. She turned into him as the pressure chased the air out of her lungs. She could feel her ribs creak beneath his arms, but she just buried her face in his chest and embraced it. Even when he was doubting and hurting, Steve was still so solid. Inside and out.

"Tell me again." he whispered the fractured words into the part of her hair. "About… what you think is going to happen."

She looked up at him, finding his eyes wet with tears burnished by the ruddy light of the setting sun. Natasha reached up and caught them on her thumbs, wiping them away before they could fall even as she felt her own stinging her eyes. 

"You'll find him." she said with a gentle certitude that threatened to raise goosebumps on her own arms. "You'll find him, or he'll find you."

And with that statement, she raised up on her toes and kissed him. Soft and chaste. Like a kiss to seal a covenant. She'd practically willed something into truth with her words. It seemed only right.

"Where would I be without you?" Steve whispered the question against her lips.

She stole another kiss before she answered, letting her tongue tease along his bottom lip before she pulled away. "Probably still here… but you'd be a far less experienced kisser."

The stern angles of Steve's face melted into a smile as he dug a finger into her ribs, making her jump and squeal. "Y'know what, Romanoff!"

"It's true! It's true!" she shrieked, her voice ringing in the quiet. "Stop tickling me! It's true!"

"Yeah, yeah… something something not all things to all people?" He said, settling her against his chest again as they watched the sun sink towards the rough edge of the horizon. 

"Something something." she said, a grin of her own spreading across her face as she propped her chin on his breastbone. 

"We should probably get back." Steve said, the words framed in a sigh. 

Natasha hummed in reluctant agreement. "Can't be late to dinner, or we won't get any strawberry cake."

"I may have made arrangements for that." Steve said, smiling roguishly down at her.

"Oh yeah?"

"Sam might owe me a favor or three because I set him up with one of the lab techs down in R&D. So there might be a slice or three waiting in my room."

"That so?"

"Yeah," Steve said, pulling her with him towards the motorcycle. "Because… see, I've driven this route a few times, and I've noticed that there's a little diner over near the Ashokan Reservoir. Claims to have the best pancakes in the Catskills."

Natasha gave an impressed little pout of her lips as she let herself be dragged along in the circle of his arms. "Well, a claim like that is worth investigating. And I'm certainly qualified to judge anywhere that breakfast food is concerned."

"Likewise." Steve handed over her helmet. "Shall we?"

"We shall." she replied, buckling the helmet in place and swinging her leg over the bike.

As the engine purred to life, she found herself staring out over the landscape. The sun had truly set, casting the once brilliant trees in cool shadow, but the clouds above still blushed with light. Natasha let herself sink against Steve's broad back, inhaling the scent of leather and leaves as they pulled onto the highway again.

 _You'll find him._

Her own words rang in her head. She hoped she was right. And she hoped it would go easier for Bucky than it had for her. And maybe it would. Bucky wouldn't have to convince the whole of SHIELD that he was on the level for one thing. Just a baker's dozen or so of Avengers, half of which would be at least somewhat sympathetic.

She wanted to be there when they found him, she decided as they drove. As much for Steve as for Bucky. And something in her gut whispered that this would be the case, though she couldn't help but feel that things might not work out as nicely as she imagined. And she suspected that her role in the whole affair might be far messier than she hoped.

But she just set the feeling aside. No sense in pondering it now. Not with her arms around Steve, and a beautifully purpling sky to distract her. It was nice. Nothing to think about but the road and the mountains.

Look at the trees. 

Count the mile markers. 

And enjoy the ride.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Come flail with me about MCU, Venom, Game of Thrones, Hannibal, Agents of SHIELD, and whatever else I've found to be excited about over on Tumblr at @littlethingwithfeathers.


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